


In the Absence of Color

by Mirror_Face



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Denial of Reality, Future Foundation (Dangan Ronpa), Gen, Hallucinations, Implied Self-Worth Issues, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic attack(s), Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), reality confusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirror_Face/pseuds/Mirror_Face
Summary: Shuichi knew that the world wasn’t real- he knew that it was just fiction, he’d watched it, played it. This was just Danganronpa.But it wasn’t, was it? Because if this was Danganronpa then Shuichi wouldn’t be himself, he would be someone better. An ultimate./A great detective/The lines that separate reality is blurred and stepped on until there’s nothing left but a confusing mound of fiction.And nothing feels truly real.
Relationships: Harukawa Maki & Saihara Shuichi, Harukawa Maki & Saihara Shuichi & Yumeno Himiko, Harukawa Maki & Yumeno Himiko, Kirigiri Kyoko & Naegi Makoto, Kirigiri Kyoko & Naegi Makoto & Togami Byakuya, Saihara Shuichi & Yumeno Himiko
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	1. Hold Your Breath and Count to Three

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I don’t know why I’m putting myself through the stress of having two multi-chapter stories going on, but whatever. 
> 
> For the two of you that have read ‘Lies That Melt Inside the Eyes (or How I Fell Asleep While Dreaming)’, yes this is the rewrite. If you haven’t read it, then I implore you to never do. It’s really bad- it’s thirteen chapters of a confusing jumble of absolute nothingness. I might end up taking it off the site.
> 
> Well, anyways, this isn’t really anything like that story except for the simple premise of ‘what if the pre-game V3 cast (specifically the survivors) woke up in the Danganronpa world?’
> 
> I like the idea, so here it is again.

Light flashed atop his eyelids, and he could sense the warmth of the sun heating up his face. His mouth was incredibly dry, his eyelashes were crusty, and his arms felt like lead- refusing to move. He tried to open his eyes, but those too felt heavy, and they stuck together like they were glued. A groan slipped from his mouth.

His ears could barely pick up on quiet murmuring, coming from people inside his room. He didn’t know what they were saying.

He swallowed dry, his mouth tasted sour. Who was that talking? Who…? Where was he? How did he… wasn’t he…

What was he doing before? Where was he yesterday, or the day before that? What… was he… doing…?

( _“You’ve been accepted by Team Danganronpa! Your killing school life starts now!”_

_He was accepted? He- he was accepted!_

_His thoughts were a mess, a continuously rolling ball of disbelief and excitementment. He would become the new him- the better him. A great detective!_

_“Really?” A girl asked, as excited as he was, “We’re in Danganronpa?”_

_“Of course ya are!” Yelled Monokid, his personal least favorite of the kubs._

_And he was blinded by fictional memories of a fictional character. The character that he would soon become._

_A great detective. Better than the rest._ )

He swallowed dry again. He was

here? Him? Alive?

That wasn’t supposed to happen. 

The sourness in his throat turned bitter and he felt water building up in his closed, crusty eyes. He felt that he couldn’t breathe, though it seemed that his breathes were getting much faster and laborious than before. Were his hands (that before seemed like heavy anchor) trembling, or was he merely imagining it. Was he imagining his whole situation?

-He wasn’t supposed to be here.-

Perhaps he had just dreamed of the whole ordeal. He was never accepted into Danganronpa, he could never be _that_ lucky. Right?

Was it really just a dream, a faraway illusion- nothing but a memory crafted by his own desires. He wished he could move his body enough to laugh, laugh a bitter laugh if lost wants and desires.

-He couldn’t though.-

Why couldn’t he move then? If it really was all a dream, then why wouldn’t his eyes open, his limbs move, and why did his skin feel so cold? Why could he feel his ribs stabbing at his skin? He was never _that_ skinny. He never had been.

But before he could think of any answers, his mind was silenced by the empty world of dreamless sleep.

* * *

His mind was hazy when he woke up, still swirling with confusion. The world was still dark (any light outside shaded by his heavy eyelids) and he still felt cold and empty. The banker that was on top of him scratched at his skin like it was made of straw.

-He didn’t want to be in the dark anymore. The empty, empty darkness that reminded him that he existed.-

He didn’t want that. He wanted to be the better him, the better…

His mind wandered off, and his thoughts didn’t seem like they could ever settle down. He just wanted to know what was happening, what had happened. That everything was okay.

-Not that it ever could be, when he was himself.-

He wanted to open his eyes, to force them to look at the light that he knew was there.

To get out of the never ending darkness that made him want to shout and cry and sob and-

/Wake up/

/Wake up/

/Wake up/

It hurt, trying to open his eyes, force them open. How long had it been since he’d last opened his eyes, it couldn’t have been too long, right?

/Wake up/

/Don’t give up now/

He could _hear_ his eyelids peeling apart from each other as, by sheer willpower alone, he managed to pry his eyes open. It hurt.

It hurt so terribly so.

He could feel the crust from his incredibly dry eyes trickle down his cheek.

The light burned his eyes. But he kept them open anyways. There was no going back, he refused to be a coward.

Everything was blurry and his eyes were watery and dry at the same time, he could almost hear them crunching as he blinked rapidly. Silhouettes shadowed his vision, and their voices reached his ears, excited by something, perhaps his awakening. 

Their tones were hushed, and he felt too exhausted to make out what they were saying. Who were they? And what did they want from him, what-?

A face appeared in front of his own. It was soft-toned, the face of a gentle man. He had brown hair, with one slick of hair sticking out oddly.

This face was familiar. So, very familiar. It was Makoto Naegi, the ultimate lucky student. He first debuted in Danganronpa 1: Trigger Happy Havoc, the game that started off Danganronpa. An average protagonist- too positive in his opinion, though.

But this wasn’t the face of a cosplayer, or anything of the sort. Makoto’s face was too real- too perfect, too right. This couldn’t have been a fake. This was real. This was _Makoto Naegi_ , a fictional character. A video game protagonist.

He wasn’t real.

/He isn’t real/

He couldn’t be.

“Oh, are you awake? Uh… Kyoko, what should we do?”

“I’ll get Byakuya.”

Footsteps echoed throughout the room, cold and obsolete. 

Their voices sounded so real. So, so real. Where was he? Why was he-? Was this reality? No, it couldn’t be.

/It couldn’t be.../

  
  
  


Shuichi Saihara was awake, though it would take a while for him to truly believe that. For that wasn’t Shuichi Saihara the great detective who always fought for the truth, that was Shuichi Saihara- a Danganronpa fan, who doesn’t want to be himself. 

/The world isn’t real./

Or that’s what he believed.

  
  



	2. Lives a Dead Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiction is reality.
> 
> And staring such a concept in the face was scarier than Shuichi would like to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully these chapters will start to get a little longer as time goes on.

Fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction…

/This isn’t real, it never was and never will be real.../

Fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction fiction…

His head felt like it was going to explode, that it was leaking out words of /fiction fiction fiction fiction/. 

Shuichi let out a shaky breath and tried to look around, tried to see if his new reality was really this… fiction. But he found that, like his legs, like his arms- they weighed down heavily, anchoring him to the bed.

Instead he was stuck moving looking around the room, unable to turn his head- having to strain his already strained eyes. 

Then, Shuichi caught a glance at Makoto. Makoto Naegi, standing near the doorway that was off to the side. He was tapping his feet nervously and somewhat impatiently on the floor. The sound of his foot tapings was the only one in the room. 

/That’s Makoto… Naegi?/

/The ultimate lucky student/

/Makoto Naegi/

/Is in the same room as him/

It felt like a dream? Perhaps the whole thing was a dream, and he was just dreaming of Makoto Naegi in the same room as him. Because…

/This can’t be reality/

Shuichi clenched his teeth, biting his cheek and tasting it bleed. 

How could this have happened? He was supposed to be in a killing game- turned into a great detective. Not sent to a fictional world of an arc that is way behind the times. How many years ago was it that Trigger Happy Havoc had even come out, over sixty years, he guessed.

That was too long- way too long. He wasn’t even the biggest fan of the Hope’s Peak saga, it was too indecisive- did it want to be sci-fi or not? Shuichi was instead drawn to the more reality grounded seasons, although even he had to admit that the last season (starting off a new arc) ‘System Load’, was pretty damn good. Even if he wasn’t much of a sci-fi fan.

Shuichi blinked out of his thoughts. That didn’t matter. The point was that his world had been destroyed and reassembled into a cruel new world. If what he was experiencing was even real, this could’ve been another one of Team Danganronpa’s fakeouts. He could still remember those times when he watched characters stumble around for a while before Monokuma revealed himself and changed their personalities. 

It was odd, but it’s happened before.

Footsteps- not Makoto’s- interrupted Shuichi’s thoughts. Shuichi’s eyes found the source of the sound. It was Kyoko and, trailing behind her, Byakuya.

His heart skipped a beat once the thought settled in that

/I’m in the same room as Kyoko Kirigiri/

Of course, being in the same room as both Makoto and Byakuya was also pretty nerve wracking, but Kyoko was the original ultimate detective. She was cold and calculating- and Shuichi has probably written way too many character studies about her. There had only been a few ultimate detectives, and she was by far the best. She was a personal favorite of his.

/That is Kyoko Kirigiri- right in front of me. Flesh and blood. (she’s not real though)/

He tuned into the conversation that was happening around him.

“I cannot believe that you don’t have any idea of what to say. Didn’t we tell you to plan this out?”

Makoto’s voice came out sheepish, “Sorry Byakuya, I was trying to think of what to say, but then he woke up!”

“That’s no excuse!”

“But I thought it counted as one?”

“Actually Makoto, it would have been smarter of you to think of what you were going to say beforehand. Then you wouldn’t be so nervous.”

“But you guys refused to help me!”

“That’s because we have better things to do, you imbecile. You’re probably the least busy of us right now, and you’re still messing it up.”

“That’s true, I’m still digging through that laptop we found after division nine infiltrated those headquarters.”

“And I have to deal with _Hina_ constantly.”

“Hey! I’ve been helping! I helped convince everyone to let Mikan into the facility!”

“Didn’t Kyoko do most of that?”

“Byakuya, Makoto why don’t you do your job? Shuichi’s awake. And I have a feeling that we’ll have to explain a lot to him.”

Shuichi’s breathing sped up a little faster. They knew his name? How?

“Yes. Makoto, shut your mouth and let me take the lead.”

“Wait! Why do you get to take the lead?”

“Because I helped with the last one.”

“Makoto, just let Byakuya handle it. I have to leave, and I doubt you know what you’re doing.”

“Fine…”

Kyoto’s footsteps echoed as, once again, she walked out of the room.

Seemingly done bickering, Makoto sighed in defeat and let Byakuya walk over to Shuichi’s bed. Shuichi blinked in surprise- he’d never seen Byakuya’s face up close before. Of course he hadn’t, Byakuya was fictional.

/He didn’t exist/

Shuichi didn’t know what to do. He didn’t really know anything in that moment. Because looking at Byakuya’s face really showed him what this new reality was. Fiction in its purest form. In its most realistic form.

An unknown feeling settled inside of Shuichi’s stomach. Was it hope or was it despair? It could’ve been either. Shuichi didn’t know.

Because all that he could really feel was a deep and terrible dread.

And whether it was due to the stress of staring such a reality- such a concept- in the face or not, Shuichi went to sleep. Leaving the waking world to panic in his absence.

The darkness was peaceful while it lasted.

Memory 

Theater 

  
  


_The cool air of the waiting room blew straight into his face as he sat in the chair. His back felt still, and the chair was scratching against his skin after waiting so many hours, but staring at the time- Shuichi couldn’t help but smile. He was so close._

_So close._

_The form (which he had filled in three hours before) was starting to get wrinkled in his strong grip. His smile grew wider as he watched the time. Only a few more minutes. He was going to make it. He was so, so close to getting the chance to make his dreams a reality._

_This was the type of thing that every kid dreamed of, that every man and woman in the world desired. Something that only sixteen teenagers, once a year, got chosen for. Only four, three, two, one-_

_“//Shuichi|//Saihara//, could you please come to audition room #5?”_

_Were the words that came out of the speaker._

_Now._

_Now was his dream._

_Now was when his world ended and his world began._

_Hopefully they liked him._

_Every single part of him._

_Because he was going to make it, no matter what._

  
  


_/no matter what/_

  
  


_Because Danganronpa was his dream._

_(And soon, it would be his life.)_


	3. Look Upon a Crimson Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her vision is tinted with fiction (reality).
> 
> She knows what is real- and that, she swears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, I lied about two things. Instead of this taking me three days, it took one. And I said that this chapter was supposed to be longer. Well, that was a lie too. This is probably the shortest chapter yet.

The light, streaming out the window- for what had seemed like hours- was too bright. It seemed to burn her retenias after only a passing glance in its direction. She hated light. It was annoying and pointless and a constant that always seemed to follow her. Too bad she wasn’t allowed to close the shades.

So she ended up just groaning in annoyance and turning away from the window, her back now having to face the dreadful heat of the sun. The sheets were scratching against her arms and she was overall uncomfortable. This, however, wasn’t exactly the source of her frustration. Instead, her situation, which just kept growing odder and odder by the hours and days, was to blame.

Just the idea that her entire life was a lie (just fiction- just what Danganronpa was supposed to be) made her shiver in a mix of confusion and anger. Her entire life, nonexistent- announced false by false people. 

She just wanted to scream and cry and… just disappear into Team Danganronpa’s killing game. Why couldn’t she just die there, on TV? Watched by (fictional) people as she (fictionaly) died on a (fictional) killing game. 

But she couldn’t do that, she couldn’t react, she refused to. Because this was her fault, wasn’t it? What if this was just Team Danganronpa testing her and the others? It has happened before (and she remembered the times when she was a child- face close to the TV screen as she saw the confused faces of the soon-to-be dead men and women). And she  _ chose  _ this, she  _ chose  _ to audition, and she  _ wanted  _ her dead body to be strung up across a TV screen.

Maybe the world was just messing with her.

Or maybe what the characters said was true. She was the fictional one- the fake memory that infected her original self’s brain like a parasite. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Nothing could really be confirmed, meaning nothing could be denied. And that line of thought confused her, because of course she knew what was real and what was fake. She had  _ lived _ her life, she knew that what she had lived was real. It couldn’t be fake, it couldn’t be.

Because if her life before wasn’t real, then how could she believe that the world she’s awake in now was real. Honestly, the whole thing was making her head hurt.Reality and fiction are supposed to be easy to distinguish, they always have been.

She’d never regretted anything before, and she knew that she could never regret signing up to join Danganronpa, it was her life after all. But for one brief moment she thought, pondered, if she should have auditioned at all. If only she had listened to her parents, were the words that flashed through her head for only a second. A moment.

(but what if those parents didn’t even exist?)

But such thoughts didn’t really matter, because (fiction) couldn’t be (reality).

That was what Maki chose to believe.

  
  
  


And even as one of the doctors told her that ‘Shuichi Saihara’ was awake, Maki wouldn’t care. She  _ couldn’t _ care. Because this ‘Shuichi Saihara’ didn’t matter to her.

And he was probably fake anyways.

* * *

_ “Number 312. My name is //Maki\/Harukawa\\\ _

_ “I don’t really care what my talent is, all I wanna be is tough. Make me seem impenetrable- harder to kill, in some way. I want people to think ‘she’ll definitely be a killer’ when they look at me. _

_ “And then have me die a victim.  _

_ “And I don’t necessarily care if I die a heroic death or not, or if I’m even very friendly. But please don’t make me a killer. I want my character to have a twist that everyone will remember, and having someone unfriendly and tough being a killer is too unmemorable. _

  
  


_ “Also, please make my death as gruesome as you possibly can.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!


	4. Flip a Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations...
> 
> Conversations always feel fake and written (mostly because they are).
> 
> Unless he's talking to the girl  
> that refuses to believe in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that Black and White Checkers is taking so long. I feel really bad for making everyone wait for almost 4 weeks for just a chapter. But I swear I'm working on it, it's coming.

Shuichi woke up staring straight into the face of fiction. The eyes of both Byakuya and Makoto looking back at him.

“Finally, you’re up.” 

“Yeah.” Was all Shuichi’s voice could respond with, all brittle and dry.

There was silence in the room before Makoto finally spoke, “Do you remember anything? Anything at all.”

His dialogue sounded so forced, so fake. And Shuichi could just invision a writer putting it in a script, a voice actor speaking it into their microphone. It was like every single word had a purpose. Nothing extra, because players didn’t like filler dialogue.

/No one likes filler dialogue/

Shuichi shivered.

And then he shrugged his shoulders to the two men across the room. Because what was a ‘memory’ here? Something fictional or 

/my real memories/

Byakuya rephrased the question, made it easier to understand. “What Makoto was trying to say was if you remember your memories of here?”

Here? In the fictional world?

But of course not, that’s impossible! Because he was real, and no memories of this fiction could possibly exist- there was no way.

And so Shuichi just shook his head.

* * *

“You know this isn’t real, right?” Said the only other person inside the room.

A girl (though she looked to be more of a young woman) that had been wheeled in by the doctors, under the pretense of ‘you have a visitor’. She had long, dark hair and red, red eyes that stared back deeply into his own. Her face told him that she didn’t want to be there- and no flicker of recognition came to her eyes when she had seen him. Shuichi didn’t remember her either.

There had been a long, stretching silence that had seemed to last for an eternity before the girl had interrupted it. Her voice had sounded strained, and she was currently looking down at her feet.

“What isn’t real?” Shuichi responded with his own scratchy voice.

The girl waved her arms, gesturing to the room around them, “This, everything! It doesn’t exist.”

Shuichi mulled over her words. It seemed like the easy solution, the simple answer. To just hadwave away everything that this world of fiction had just told them, to deny their current reality for a more familiar one. It was such an easy choice.

/So she’s a coward/

“I’m assuming that you’re in the same situation as me, right?”

“Yeah.”

She sounded upset, or maybe annoyed. But perhaps she always sounded that way when her bloody red eyes were sharpened into a glare. She was still staring at the floor, but he could sense it. Maybe that was just how her eyes always looked, constantly glaring.

/She could’ve totally been a killer/

“I’m Maki Harukawa.”

“Shuichi Sai-“

“I already know your name, you idiot.”

They sat in further silence until Shuichi decided to speak up, “So you think that this is all fiction?”

Maki snorted, “Obviously.”

“Why though?”

“Seriously?”

Shuichi simply nodded in response.

“What else could this world be but some kind of trap by Team Danganronpa? Makoto, Kyoko, all of them, they can’t be real.”

“Heh, seems pretty probable to me.”

Maki looked at him in disbelief, “You think that the fictional world, that we have watched and played, could be real. That’s stupid.”

Shuichi simply shrugged, “There’s always a possibility, isn’t there?”

“No. There isn’t.”

“Well, detectives always look for the truth- there needs to be solid evidence for me to believe what you want me to believe.”

Maki looked back up at Shuichi’s face, red eyes once again boring into his own. “So you wanted to be a detective.”

It wasn’t a question.

Shuichi didn’t respond, realizing his mistake. She didn’t say anything else either, and they sat in silence until one of the nurses came and took Maki back to her room.

He had to believe. He had to- because he was a detective. It was his job.

-I'm not just playing pretend-

(but that was just a lie)


	5. Are Places I Won’t Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuichi dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing dreams- so that part is staying from the original. This chapter is super short- mostly because I wrote it at 2:00 a.m. and I couldn't think of anything else to add.

_The world is a twisting maze (world) of vines- complicated, obsolete. Thorns rapidly grow out from its sides, jutting out and cutting against Shuichi’s body. Blood (not dripping or moving at all- just there) peeks out from his skin.The pain seems all too real and non-existent._

_Small, colorful stones line the path that he follows, telling his clearly to go right. No, left. Towards the middle. Around. Over and over again, in the silly little maze of thorns, that gave the illusion of hurt._

_The floor is clumped dirt, the ground most would find in a graveyard. Shuichi stumbles, and almost falls face first into a wall of thorns- but instead, he rams into a black hat. Small, and yet somehow protecting his face from the sharp thorns._

_After picking himself up, Shuichi inspects the hat. It seems familiar- in a surreal sense. But, his time for inspection was cut short, as a vine seemingly grabs the hat and tosses it over itself. It flies, ragged._

_An aching, burning desire for that hat overcomes him, like an odd type of nostalgia (for a thing he doesn’t even remember)- and he knows that he has to go after is._

_He has to._

_And so he rips apart the vines, or at least he tries to- thorns cutting deep underneath his fingernails, knuckles smeared with blood. But he has to get out, the pain didn’t matter. (it was all a d-) So he keeps going, ripping and ripping. Shredding and shredding. Until, finally, he makes it out across the other side._

_Everything hurts, of course it does. But that doesn’t matter, because he made it- he was on the other side. He had found-_

_but (and he realizes this just now, before too caught up in his excitement), it’s just another maze. Made out of the pieces of a broken tower._

_Faintly, Shuichi feels defeated._

_(but it was all just a dream, anyways)_

* * *

Shuichi woke up. The world outside his head was serene. Nice and safe and fictional (and yet, so was the dream).

He shivered slightly. In his hospital room, someone had left the window open.


	6. Wind Feels Nonexistent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wind is just apart of his imagination.
> 
> Just fiction...  
> Just words.
> 
> And he accepts that  
> (despite what he tells himself).

It was the morning, Shuichi noted absently, staring straight ahead to the room’s closed door, like he was expecting someone. But it was a stupid thought, considering how late it was.

A gust of wind burst through the open window, and once again Shuichi shivered. The cold reminded him of something…

/What was I dreaming about?/

Staring at the darkness for so long had made his mind blank. He remembered  _ having  _ the dream, and the feelings of disappointment that he had felt upon waking up was still fresh in his mind. His heart squeezed, and a chill ran up his spine.

And in the still silence, to him so, incredibly fictional, he thought

/I just want to be real.../

But, he was real, right? 

Shuichi Saihara, the bitter Danganronpa fan- a nothing, worthless person was real. The Great Detective, however, was simply a characterchure. A few descriptive words. Nonexistent.

/I am real/

He knew that. Right?

He wasn’t wrong. He  _ knew  _ that.

/But detectives always investigated, didn’t they?/

And at the same time that he thought that, the words of Maki Harukawa (the real girl) rang in his head.

_ “You know this isn’t real, right?”  _

Of course it wasn’t real

/My words, it was all just for show/

But he could never truly convince himself to be who he isn’t and wasn’t meant to be. He was real- he just didn’t want to be. That was what he decided on, not the silly conspiracy theories.

Because he wasn’t a detective. Not a great finder of clues- a grand silver of mysteries. He was just the delusional Shuichi Saihara. The world around him wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

/But can it be?/

Slipped out of his mind. He squashed the thought.

Of course everything was fiction. Pure fiction- pure nothingness. Fake. There was nothing else to it.

/Detectives always  _ search  _ for the truth/

Shuichi, however, wasn’t a detective. And he slipped off to sleep once again, the darkness shining on his eyelids. Pretending that doubt wasn’t filling his head.

* * *

Memory 

Theater 

_ Shuichi was looking for a game. Supposedly, it was the inspiration for the new, popular show ‘Danganronpa’, which he had only recently discovered and completely fallen in love with. Well, perhaps ‘new’ wasn’t the best way to describe it. The show was already 40 seasons in- but, it was new to him. _

_ And Shuichi loved it with every part of his being. _

_ Trigger Happy Havoc _

_ and then  _

_ Goodbye Despair  _

_ and then  _

_ The End of Hope’s Peak Academy. _

_ The whole saga. _

_ He might as well buy it in bulk- Shuichi knew he’d love the whole thing. _

_ And, a week later, he found that he did. His favorite character was the detective. _


	7. Our Confidence Shatters into a Million Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They want to be right.
> 
> They want to believe that they are right.
> 
> But that's so, impossibly hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, warning? Maybe? There's a brief description of a panic attack. I don't know if people need to be warned for that though.

Maki was awoken by the footsteps of (who she assumed to be) a nurse, and the sound of a creaking door. She shifted in her bedsheets, turning her head to glance at the opposing wall. A nurse she hadn’t seen before. 

Purple-like colored hair, wide eyes, wrap bandages covering her arms. Maki had never seen her before, but she was familiar. 

Mikan Tsumiki- the ultimate nurse. Fiction. More and more fiction piled onto her brain (like she wasn’t already surrounded by it). Maki just had to ignore her.

Her eyes shifted to her bedsheets, hands scrunching into fists as her ears registered the sound of Mikan teetering in. Nervous- how in character. At least they weren’t suspending her disbelief too much. Or maybe her disbelief had already snapped (like a rubber band), and she just wasn’t processing anything anymore.

Mikan didn’t say anything, except for a few mutterings to herself. Slowly, she dropped off Maki’s breakfast- then left. Still nervous. Still in character.

Maki turned to lay on her side, glaring half-heartedly at the wall- refusing to eat breakfast (it wasn’t real anyways). 

There was no way out, she realized. No way out of this fiction (game?). Nobody believed her, even her fellow contestant. He doubted his own memories, all because he’d wanted to play detective. She would never admit it, but the lack of confidence in her (incredibly reasonable) theory made doubt creep into her thoughts.

(Maybe…)

Maki shook her head- interrupting her own thoughts. Doubt was out of character. She was supposed to be confident, right?

She decided to stop thinking about it, and distracted herself with breakfast, (trying to be) confident in her theory.

* * *

Shuichi was once again awakened from his dreamless sleep by Makoto, who seemed to be delivering his breakfast. Shuichi had thought that Makoto would just leave as soon as he had given him breakfast, but it turns out that he had things that he wanted to say. 

Shuichi really wasn’t in the mood to have such a scripted conversation. To look at the face of this innocent, untainted type of fiction. The first protagonist. The first Dangagronpa character anyone would ever learn the name of…

-I’m not in the mood to question my existence-

Makoto just stood at the foot of Shuichi’s bed awkwardly, waiting for him to say something. Shuichi didn’t, hoping that Makoto would just go away. Makoto tried to smile- but it came off as forced and a little bit uncomfortable.

Finally, he broke the silence, “Your friend is up.”

Shuichi blinked in surprise, “Who?”

“Himiko? I think that’s her name?”

The name wasn’t familiar, not at all. Perhaps just another ‘fan’ trapped in the existential world of fiction that he was trapped in. Or maybe she was fiction too? What if Maki was fiction?

-What if I am fiction?-

Shuichi fought the panic that was rising in his throat.

“Shuichi?” Makoto asked, oblivious to the paranoia bubbling inside Shuichi’s mind. “Are you okay?”

Shuichi couldn’t even choke out any (fake) reassurances. He could feel his hands shaking rapidly, water glazing over his eyes. He didn’t know why such a ridiculous thought terrified him so much.

He was real.

He was real.

-I am real-

He had to be.

And that was what he thought as his heart thumped heavily against his fragile skin, and tears glistened in his eyes.

He was afraid of his fake confidence being wrong or misplaced. The decision that Shuichi had come to the night (early morning?) before was just wrong. Or maybe it wasn’t?

It was just all too frustrating for his brain (which, at the moment, felt like it was going to explode), this doubting himself. Doubting reality.

His very existence.

  
  


Fake or real, he didn’t know anymore.

“Shuichi? Shuichi? Are you okay?”

Shuichi's throat was incredibly dry, and yet he still croaked, “Yeah… I think…”

Makoto seemed to be panicking, and seemed to have moved closer to Shuichi. “I think you just had a panic attack. Wait here, I’ll be back in a second, I just have to find a nurse!”

Shuichi could only nod faintly as Makoto left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I described the panic attack oddly. I hope I did a well enough job.
> 
> Also, yay Himiko! I finally get to write her. Anyone familiar with the original fic knows that Himiko was barely in it, so at least something really different is coming.


	8. Faces Remind Me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wakes up not knowing anything.
> 
> Faces come in and out of her room. All familiar.
> 
> All distractedly paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are so many '...'s in this chapter.

She awoke to silence. An odd, heavy quietness that kept her ears full. Her eyes were heavy, vision blurry and wet. Where was she? She wondered, looking at the unfamiliar room.

There wasn’t much time to spend in dead silence, however, because a young woman walked into the room- demeanor cold. The woman’s shoulders were stiff, purple hair reaching a little higher than her mid-back, despite it being tied in a tight ponytail. She also wore a suit.

She wondered why that lady seemed so familiar. 

“Himiko Yumeno?” The woman nodded in acknowledgment.

“Y-Yeah…” Himiko(?) choked out, having to cough a bit at the dry strain pulling on her throat. Afterwards, she added, “I think…”

After all, identity theft would be a serious crime, and Himiko would rather have plausible deniability than be mistaken for this ‘Himiko Yumeno’, which she assumed was actually herself. The name seemed familiar, at least.

A lot of things felt familiar though, so she wasn’t exactly sure how reliable her feelings of familiarity were. But she would stick with it for now, she supposed. It would’ve been weird if a hospital worker(?) didn’t know their patient’s name. 

The purple haired woman looked intrigued by Himiko’s unsure response. “You don’t know your own name?”

Himiko gave a weak chuckle, “Heh, yeah… I guess I’m having some trouble remembering everything. Though… some things do seem familiar…”

“Hmm.” The woman hummed to herself in thought, then left the room without warning, leaving Himiko alone in the silence once again.

However, Himiko didn’t have to sit in the unpleasant silence for long. The purple haired lady soon returned with a nervous looking nurse (or who she assumed to be a nurse). They came in talking.

“N-nothing at all?”

“No, not even her name. If she were to regain her memory, however, I would assume she would be like the other survivors. She probably won’t remember this reality.”

They both stopped in front of her bed’s front. The purple haired woman nodded at Himiko (though whether it was a cold greeting to her, or just a way of pointing for the nurse, Himiko would never know), arms crossed. Himiko noted black gloves over her hands (a feeling of familiarity washed over her again).

“S-s-sorry if this is a rude request, but I would rather i-if you could leave the room, Ms. Kirigiri. I-it would probably make the patient more comfortable.”

Kirigiri? That name…

Kirigiri…

Kirigiri…

Kirigiri…?

It sounded so…

“Of course. I shall respect that request. Also, I would rather you call me Kyoko.”

“Y-yeah.”

Kyoko…

That also…

Kyokirigiri.

Kirgikyo.

Kirigiri Kyoko.

Kyoko Kirigiri.

It was a name. A familiar name. A (not real?) name. Something that Himiko knew better than her own name. Kyoko Kirigiri. The ultimate-

“Excuse me?”

Himiko snapped out of her trance. “Y-yes?”

“Ar-are you feeling okay?”

“I-” Himiko stopped talking, and looked down at her hands. She felt odd. Like the subconscious parts of her brain were trying to tell her something. She felt… disconnected? Like she knew something. Like (nothing was real)... “Am I real?”

“H-huh? Wh-why would you think that you weren’t? Are you feeling odd? Are there any weird memories coming back to you?” The woman’s face suddenly turned strangely intense.

“Well, I guess I’m feeling a little weird.” Himiko gave an awkward chuckle, the feeling had passed. But the name ‘Kyoko Kirigiri’ still reminded her of… something. Though that ‘something’ was still unknown to her.

The nurse’s face looked worried at Himiko’s words. “Hopefully this is just in passing, i-it would be best if you just fully remembered everything.”

It just struck Himiko how familiar the nurse looked. Where had she seen her before? On tv? (she was close, she could feel it) Maybe in a-

A young man ran through the door. It’s knob struck the wall, and the sound echoed in Himiko’s ears. It was so odd to hear such a real sound coming from…(?)

(where was that trail of thought going?)

“Mikan, we need your help! Do you think you could help Shuichi, he’s really stressed right now.”

Makoto’s (makoto? how did she know his name? she’d never met him before, and yet he looked so familiar… how did she know his name?) voice sounded so fake, and his words sounded so scripted. So… fictional.

Unreal and far away.

“B-but I’m a-a-already dealing with a patient right now.”

“It’s fine.” Said Kyoko Kirigiri, walking into Himiko’s room once again. “We can keep an eye on her until you’re back. We need to make sure that Shuichi is safe.”

The nurse (familiar, so familiar…) nodded, trembling in her always-trembling manner, and scuttled out of the room on shaky legs.

Makoto smiled softly at Himiko, who felt faint and-

everything was coming back to her (oh so quickly).


	9. Chaos Breaches the Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am kind of ashamed by how little I've written in the past five days (only this). I've been sick with a cold, and before that I had a concert. So maybe it's kind of excused. Maybe.

No one had told her what was going on outside, all Maki knew was that a small burst of chaos had ensued. All she could hear was the bustling and hustling of the hospital’s staff, all more confused than yesterday’s.

She didn’t even know if she should feel angry. Should she even care?

_ It didn’t matter _ . Not at all.

It was all fake anyways.

She went back to staring at the ceiling, ignoring the sound of everyone’s voices. And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder…

(did someone wake up?)

(she hoped not. it would just be another to make her question her reality)

* * *

They were all crowding around him, like dogs did to a slab of meat. It was annoying.

“S-stop crowding around him… Y-you’re making him stressed!”

That voice…

Shuichi turned his head slightly to the side. Mikan Tsumiki was standing there. She looked real. Seemed to be real. It almost tricked his brain into thinking that she was real.

/But isn’t she?/

No. That wasn’t possible… he…

Everyone moved away from him. Makoto and Kyoko followed a little bit behind Mikan. 

She gave him a (very in character) shaky smile, “A-are you okay?”

Shuichi stared blankly, then nodded. He still couldn’t help but be stuck inside his head. He didn’t know what he could possibly think. Real or fiction? At this point, what was the difference? Both uncertainties.

“G-good…” Mikan muttered under her breath, as she moved a little closer to inspect him. Looking at her closely was even more confusing.

She looked so… real.

Before, his eyes just filtered everything as fiction, but now…

Milan’s eyes gleamed purple, her hair seemed scratchy and messy, dark circles were prominent under her eyes. Like a real person. She looked like a real person.

In his desperation, Shuichi looked to other people (characters, his mind corrected desperately) in the room. Makoto’s goody-two-shoes smile was strained with worry, his hands trembled with a mix of complicated feelings. Kyoko’s gloves were creased and worn, like pulled on anxiously.

Too many details.

Too many intricate, intricate details surrounding the characters. Simply too complex for a script.

/Am I wrong?/

About what though?

Mikan opened Shuichi’s right eye a little wider with her thumb and index finger, peering at his pupil.

“He seems to have calmed down a little bit, b-but, uh, I would recommend that you give him some relaxants, o-or maybe even sedate him if you think that’ll be better.”

“W-What…?” Shuichi didn’t want to be sent to sleep, he didn’t want to be drugged. Not when his brain was finally able to think again, not when he was starting to figure everything out again. Not when-

Shuichi felt a light pinch on his wrist, and sleepiness hit him soon after. His brain stopped working, it refused to. Everything just came out blank. Any pondering about the world’s level of fiction came to a stop and he fell

into

the

depths

of 

his

  
  


mind…

* * *

Memory

Theater

_ Bags of chips crumpled under Shuichi’s weight, mixing in with his messy covers, folded and creased. His neck and back ached from his constant hours of hovering over his computer screen. The theory forums had been going crazy ever since Udo Yayaka had died in the most recent episode of Danganronpa’s 49th season. _

_ He never actually joined in with the chatting, but just leering about on the chats were fun enough for him. So he just balanced theories, inspecting them inside his head. He’d always loved figuring out the mystery before the characters did, it gave him a small victory to be happy about. Of course the difficulties of the mysteries mattered, but recently a lot of the mysteries have gotten better and better, not only giving intriguing clues but playing a twist on classic murder-mystery tropes. He wasn’t sure what gave such a large shift in the writing of the show, but he sure was thankful for it. _

_ He glanced at his alarm clock, which was sitting on his nightstand. It said ‘2 am’. Quite late, or maybe that would be early. That stuff was always so confusing.  _

_ It was a school night, and he knew that he would probably regret what he was doing in the morning, but he wouldn’t be the only one. All of his classmates were probably doing the exact same thing, theorizing. Maybe a few of his teachers as well. His parents didn’t even mind the long night hours that he spent not sleeping, as long as he did his homework and kept a grade average in school.  _

_ As long as Shuichi did the bare minimum, he could get all of the freedom and Danganronpa merchandise he wanted. His parents even said that he could audition in a year or so. There was always a chance of them not accepting him, hundreds of applicants were rejected from Danganronpa, but there would always be that, wondrous, glorious chance that he could become a different person, that he could follow in the footsteps of his favorite character. And, even if there was a small chance of him even getting accepted, even if he would most likely die… _

_ It was the only thing that Shuichi would dare want to do. _


	10. Exhaustion Comes Like a Freight Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They can’t get up, they can’t move.
> 
> Just stuck alone with their thoughts.
> 
> (Himiko knows that her memories are just a lie, they have to be- they just don’t feel right)

Maki tried to stand up. Her curiosity had finally taken over, corrupted her. She had just wanted to peek into the halls, just wanted to see the root of the chaos. And so, she had swung her sore legs over her hospital bed and cautiously put her feet on the ground. Her hands held tightly onto the bed.

Maki’s legs wobbled. Unstable, unused. She fell back onto the bed.

She couldn’t leave. And that was that.

She was too tired to go back to sleep.

* * *

Himiko was panicking. Her brain was overflowing with memories that she couldn’t remember. One of another life, of some kind of strange alternate universe in which everyone she’d met (all of those familiar faces that she couldn’t pinpoint) were just game characters.

Was she in a game?

No… she had auditioned to die (how odd, she hadn’t wanted to die, not to be overridden as a person, not to kill). And this was just the prelude, wasn’t it?

Himiko’s arms felt heavy and she could only twitch her fingers. She could hear chaos from the hall leaking into her room.

Was that just it? Nothing she was experiencing was real? That felt wrong.

“Maybe I’m dead?”

What an odd thought…

Maybe it was just a dream.

Or perhaps “My memories aren’t real”.

An odd thought indeed.


	11. They Meet at the Edge of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they talk and they argue and they don't know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel super bad at how slowly I'm writing Black and White Checkers, especially since the next chapter is pretty short. It's been weeks, and I haven't even hit 1,000 words. But I'm just having a hard time right now, I thought being stuck in my house would make me write more, but I'm just uninspired. Not to mention that I'm starting a mini personal project with a couple of friends. Don't worry, the chapter will be here by sometime next month.

“So it seems that both of you are idiots.”

Himiko glared at Maki, “Well, you seem to be in denial.”

Maki glared back, “I don’t think I’m the one in denial here.”

“I trust myself, and currently, my memories are telling me that this” Himiko waved around herself vaguely, “isn’t real. But, my brain is telling me that those memories are wrong.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“That’s because you’re in denial.”

“Shuichi,” Maki turned her red, angry eyes towards him, “you still don’t believe that our memories are fake, right? You both can’t believe that, right?”

She almost sounded desperate. Shuichi tried not to think of the implications of that.

He didn’t know how to respond- he didn’t know what he thought. “I-I don’t know…”

“You don’t know? What have you been thinking about this entire time?”

“Our memories could be true, but they could also be fake. We need to explore our every option.”

Himiko sighed, “I can’t believe that you guys seriously believe in these stupid memories. This world is the one we’re in, it’s the obviously real choice.”

“There is no ‘obvious’ option, both are possible, okay?”

“Which would you prefer to be real?” Maki asked.

“Why would that matter?”

“Well, what if you both want this to be real because you just want Danganronpa to be real? You guys did sign up for Danganronpa after all.”

“You did too.” Himiko pointed out, somewhat haughty, “And doesn’t it seem more like _you’re_ the one in denial?”

“No, I accept reality, unlike you two.”

“You’re just too good at denying it.”

“Didn’t I say that I haven’t decided what I thought was real yet? Don’t just make this a black and white situation. We’re all confused, okay?”

“Don’t speak for me. I believe what I believe- and I don’t trust my memories, I trust the world. I’m not confused.”

“Yeah, you’re just an idiot.”

“ _Shut up, Maki!_ Is that seriously the only insult you know?”

Shuichi sighed in a mix of exhaustion and frustration as he leaned back into his bed. Maki and Himiko had been wheeled in on wheelchairs, while they met in Shuichi’s room- Maki was to him right, and Himiko to his left. They had all been arguing for almost a whole hour, and Shuichi was getting tired of trying to be peacekeeper.

“Why don’t we just investigate?”

Himiko and Maki stopped arguing to look at Shuichi.

“We can’t even walk yet.” Maki pointed out bitterly.

“Well, we either stay here arguing with each other until the end of time, or we _try_.”

They really didn’t have a choice.

(Maki ignored the purple growing on the edge of her vision)

(Himiko only paid attention to the world inside the room)

(Shuichi pretended he didn't hear music scratching at his eardrums)

* * *

Makoto wandered around the office in small, nervous strides as he fidgeted. Kyoko was also in the room (it was her office, after all), completely focused on a laptop laying on her desk. Makoto nervously glanced at Kyoko, stopped walking, then continued, lost completely in his thoughts?

“What’s wrong?”

Makoto flinched at the sound of Kyoko’s voice, and he stopped his pacing once again. He stood there awkwardly, then sat in an empty chair, on the opposite side of her desk.

“Heh, is it that obvious?”

“If you didn’t want your obvious anxiety to be noticed, then you shouldn’t have been in my office.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“So, what’s wrong? It’s unlike you to be so…”

“Fidgety?”

Kyoko shrugged, “Yeah, sure.”

Makoto sighed, and the tension in his shoulders escaped, “I guess I’m just worried about them, they’re just kids, and their minds have been messed with so much, just for some stupid protest that’s all my fault.”

Kyoko closed her laptop to look Makoto straight in the eyes, “Makoto, it’s not your fault. We all decided that it was best for Hope’s Peak Academy to close down, you’re not the only one.”

He tried to smile, “I know, I know, it’s all just irrational thinking. We all decided it together, that Hope’s Peak would just ultimately create more despair. But a part of me just believes that all of this backlash is just bad luck.”

“Maybe it is just bad luck, and that's your fault.”

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to make me feel better?”

“But doesn’t that mean that they’ll be more good luck in the future?” Kyoko smirked at Makoto’s glowing smile.

“Yeah, maybe.”


	12. Information Thrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Himiko was surprised by how easy information gathering could be.
> 
> All simple questions  
> all so easy to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on a one shot that's becoming a real pain, so I'll probably just focus all of my energy on to that.

“Hey.” Makoto walks into her room.

Himiko doesn’t want to talk to anyone, not at the moment. She’s too busy thinking about stuff. Stuff that she had classified as ‘fake’ and ‘pointless’, but still things that she tended to ponder. It always put her in a bad mood (which happened to be most of the time). And yet, the agreement that she’d made with Shuichi and Maki to ‘do research’ made her stop her pointless thinking and greet Makoto.

“Hi.”

He stepped it sheepishly. “I assume you have some questions?”

Was it really going to be that easy? Maybe those two really are just paranoid and crazy. It would make sense considering they believed the stupid farce that was their fake memories.

She decided to ask an easy question that she still hadn’t gotten a real answer to. “Why am I here?” (according to her memories, she was here for the killing game)

Makoto’s feet shifted nervously, which seemed to be a tick of his. Himiko had always wanted one of those, a nervous tick. It was always something that people in fiction seemed to have (don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t). It seemed to make people more complete or something. She’d never had something like that.

“You haven’t even been told that, huh? Sorry, it was pretty hectic when you woke up, and we were still busy taking care of Shuichi even a week later. It just slipped our mind, I guess.

“Well, anyways, that one’s easy. You’re here to recover.”

“Recover from what?”

He bristled, and his feet continued to shift and shift around, almost like an odd type of dance.

“The death game.”

“Danganronpa?”

“Yeah…  _ that _ .” It was surprising for someone as cheerful and open as Makoto to sound so bitter, but it was a killing game- Himiko would probably feel weirder if he sounded happy about it.

“Did I die?”

“No, you’re one of the three survivors.”

“So all the others are dead.”

“No, not exactly. It’s all really confusing, but basically, no one actually died.”

The killing game wasn’t even real? Was anything even real anymore?

“Well, then why are we classified as ‘survivors’ if everyone is alive?”

Makoto chuckled nervously and scratched his right cheek, “It seems that your memories, you survivors I mean, are different from the others.They’ve been inverted? If that’s the right word. They remember the killing game, and have their real memories. You guys… don’t.”

How interesting.

“Where are the others then?”

“Recovering like you. Just in different ways, they’re on Jabberwock island, hopefully talking to the crew there.”

Himiko hummed to herself, thinking. The whole story made some sense, she supposed. “So, I assume we’re at some branch of Future Foundation, right?”

“H-how do you even know about that.”

“My fake memories.”

“Oh yeah. Wait, you think they’re f-?”

Then, just as their conversation was getting started, a man (someone Himiko couldn’t recognize, so she assumed he must not really matter) in one of the foundation suits ran in. “Mister Naegi, something serious has just happened, you’ll need to come with me as requested by Miss Kirigiri.”

“Huh? What’s happened.”

“Maki Harukawa has just escaped.”

“Wait, what?”

Honestly, Himiko wasn’t really that surprised.


	13. Running Will Hardly Save You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maki dreams.
> 
> (or how Maki couldn’t run despite the fact that she did)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally haven’t even started on the Black and White Checkers chapter. But I’m so tired and I just want to write some stuff that doesn’t make sense.

_ Bright colors speckled across her dark vision, an illusion of light. It was just the color grey. _

_ Her presence wasn’t whole, and she felt oddly tired. She could feel the weight of the hospital blanket. She was dreaming. _

_ Maki was dreaming. _

_ It was quite boring. _

_ Nothing there but illusion. Nothing but fake grey spots and her twisting vision. _

_ She hears a voice calling. _

_ Calling calling calling. _

_ Was it important? It seemed important. _

_ If only she could hear… _

_ And yet, her concentration wasn’t on the voice(s), just the nothing grey spots across her vision. _

  
  
  


_ She could hear the voice calling and saying, “ “. _

_ It echoed throughout her head. _

Maki woke up suddenly, tired and exhausted. Her room was too hot.

She wanted to cry, but that would be too much. She couldn’t breathe. 

What had she been dreaming about?

It was bright outside. A bird chirped.

She ran, stumbling out the door.

(she didn’t know her legs could even work)

(they couldn’t)


	14. Matches Don't Burn as Brightly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is him?

Kyoko had been in her office, hovering over a laptop, notes covering her whole desk. Her gloved hands shifted from key to key swiftly. That was, until, Makoto stumbled into the room, blubbering on about an escaped patient.

Maki Harukawa.

It should’ve been impossible, due to her many months of bedrest and no physical therapy. And yet, it had happened. She had escaped on her own to legs, running so fast that no one could catch her. Well, she had been an assassin before.

“What’s being done to find her?”

Her curt question was, at first, met with a pause as Makoto tried to pull himself together. He scratched his cheek nervously, “Well, after making sure that Himiko was okay, I left Byakuya to figure everything out before I went to find you.”

Byakuya was never going to let her live this down- he’d probably say that  _ she _ owed  _ him  _ for this. She simply sighed. “Well then, it might as well be handled. But I might as well help anyways.”

And she stood from her desk’s chair and abandoned her project, telling Makoto to follow her. Kyoko was sure she could use a break.

Maki was hiding somewhere, the specific place unknown. Her mind had seemed to blank out as she was running. Her mind racing with  _ leave leave leave _ .

It was dark where she was, and it smelt of dust. Maki guessed that she was in some kind of closet, door shut with shelves loose and shaky.

She had to leave this place, she had to  _ get out _ . Why?

(She couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t she remember?)

And yet, despite not knowing why, Maki knew she had to run away. She had to find him (who was the man who yelled _____ in her dream?), and talk to him and… apologize. (once again, the question of ‘why’ came to her mind)

But there was no point in questioning anything. She just had to  _ run _ (how could she run?). 

Without him she was nothing, right?

_ (Who’s him? _

_ Who’s him? _

_ Who’s him? _

_ Who’s him? _

_ Who’s him? _

_ Who’s him?) _

Without him she was a mons-

She had to leave. Now.

But where would she go? This was all just a game wasn’t it? All just (danganronpa).

(she wanted this, didn’t she? She had volunteered willingly, after all)

How could she stop Danganronpa?

There was no way she could, no reason for her to want to but-

_ (“-even lies can save the world…”) _

_ (“We can stop Danganronpa once and for all!”) _

What was that?

(panic spiked within her)

What was that?

(and exhaustion caught up)

_ What was that? _

(Maki fell asleep.)

She was out cold by the time they found her.

Memory

Theater

_ Danganronpa had always been interesting to her. Kids killing each other, what a novel concept. It had been done before, but Danganronpa always held themselves up to a higher level than everything else in its genre. This was sophisticated killing- with rules and regulations. And yet, unlike all the others, Danganronpa never had a purpose. It was simply there to entertain. _

_ It intrigued Maki like nothing else had ever done before. Why was it so popular? It had nothing to say. It was just pointless bloodshed. It was just entertainment. And so, despite her passing interest, she’d never really paid much attention to any running seasons. That was until her older brother had forced her to sit down and watch season 47 with him. _

_ It had completely flipped her perspective on everything. _

_ The killing had never really mattered, it was just a backdrop. The characters were what really mattered. The unique cast with their unique quirks, who dragged you in with their own personal charm. They could make you feel even the tiniest ounce of sympathy. Even the smallest amount of sadness and betrayal at their deaths. _

_ They were just fictional characters, and yet millions of people could feel so much for them. _

_ Maki wondered what that felt like. _


	15. The World Keeps on Spinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it feels like they've been left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh

Shuichi was feeling rather out of touch with the current situation. Well, he felt out of touch with everything really. Like the world was spinning on without him. There was a part of him that said to investigate, ask questions, do  _ something _ . But that part of him had never really existed, so it was ignored.

So, there he lay. Alone in the middle of a nothing world that had split his mind in half. There was something wrong, but that didn’t matter, did it?

/I was supposed to be neutral/

That was just him trying to play detective.

/Were did all my energy go?/

Perhaps that never existed. Just fiction.

Ignoring his thoughts, Shuichi countinued to stare at the ceiling. Trailing its cracks and bruises with his eyes (imagining he was looking in a mirror).

He ignored his shaking hands (and ignores the piano that tries to lull him back to sleep).

* * *

She woke to jittering voices outside her door, scratchy blankets, and aching legs.

She woke up with faraway eyes and thoughts that never stopped screaming.

( _ whoishewhoishewhoishewhoishewhoishewhoishewhoishewhoishewhoishewhoishewhoishewhoishe- _ )

Darkly, bitterly she chuckled as she woke, nighttime darkness streaming down her face from the open window.

Hysterically, she asked herself “Who is he?”

She swears she’s crying, but she can’t feel tears trailing down her cheeks. All she feels is

  
  


n u m b n e s s

until she falls back to sleep.

(Maki forgets it in the morning, but she dreams of purple, a color that she had never really cared for before. She thinks that there might be stars, but she can’t see them past all the blood.)


	16. D r i f t i n g  Keeps Them Afloat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was terrible.
> 
> It was all too terrible.
> 
> (and yet, they were still alive)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of these chapters are so goddamn short. Sorry about that. I would say that it’s because these are all build-up chapters, but that makes it seem like the chapters will get longer as time goes on.
> 
> (also, I just realized that this whole story must flow horribly when put together, but whatever- I made this terribleness which means that I’m at least somewhat proud of it)

Shuichi was suffocating in an imaginary symphony (but it was just piano, only piano). It was playing a song, louder louder louder, softer softer softer.

His ears were bleeding, weren’t they? Because how else could he listen to the loud, loud (soft, soft) clanging of piano keys if not with bleeding ears.

Shuichi held his head in his hands, gasping. Swallowing air that he wasn’t sure was even real. Music (music music music music) retched in his eardrums. Clawing his brain and-

  
  
  


The door opened.

  
  


/I’m fine/

/I’m okay/

There were just notes though, playing and playing and replaying inside of the goddamn room. He choked back a sob as his jaggad nails dipped into the skin covering his skull (the house of all the treacherous music).

He glanced at the door.

Makoto’s worried gaze looked back.

Shuichi groaned and piano played (played and banged and-) on and on in his head.

/Fuck/

He couldn’t go to sleep, and so he just watched as Makoto shouted something out the door (he couldn’t hear anything over the damned music clanging clanging clanging  _ screeching _ ).

/Fuck/

Shuichi didn’t even know if he could hear his own thoughts anymore.

* * *

_ “Here let me show you a trick!” _

_ And she pours soda over the top of her friend’s head, giggling. _

_ (and she takes out a pack of cards and shows them to a man, yawning) _

  
  


Himiko blinks, and she’s back in her hospital room. She must’ve spaced out. Again.

It was loud outside the door, she knew that something had happened again. It was just one problem after another with her fellow survivors. Not with her though, she was normal. And the most successful in getting information, or so she assumed. 

She wondered what was wrong this time around. Perhaps it was Shuichi’s turn again, or maybe Maki tried to run away again. What problem children, she grumbled to herself.

Himiko, however, was perfectly fine. Acting normal.

Because she knew the difference between reality and fiction.

Memory

Theater

_ Himiko  _

_ sat _

_ on _

_ a _

_ chair, _

_ watching  _

_ the _

_ show, _

_ watching _

_ all _

_ of _

_ those  _

_ people  _

_ die. _

_ She _

_ wondered _

_ why _

_ anyone  _

_ would _

_ happily _

_ walk _

_ to _

_ their _

_ deaths, _

_ gleefully  _

_ audition _

_ for  _

_ a _

_ show _

_ that _

_ would  _

_ end _

_ your _

_ life. _

_ (she was just too young to understand) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Shuichi scene was so exciting to write. Honestly, what an experience. 
> 
> (Also, what? I wrote swearing? Wow!)


End file.
